Hell Doesn't Have to be Lonely
by missavc34
Summary: "But damn she's beautiful when she's angry. But I would never give her that kind of ego boost. Lord knows she doesn't need one. Maybe I'd tell her now, if she ever comes back to me. It's my fault, you know... That they took her from me." Liebgott/OC
1. Captivity

**A/N:**** Hi! This is my first time posting on here... So I do hope you enjoy! But please, I would love to know your thoughts on the chapter- good or bad:) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**

**Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape. **

**Charlotte's POV**

My expression blank as they bound my hands and kicked my ass into the cold, desolate room. I just kept wondering how the fuck I got in this situation in the first place. Krauts weren't smart enough to see the blonde hair peeking out of my helmet- not smart enough to see I was a woman. I was scared for the moment when they figured out the many uses I could be to them. They didn't bother me much yet, just left me in captivity while they chatted in the next room over. I wouldn't let them _break_ me. I couldn't let them _get_ to me. I wondered how long I had been gone for, and if anyone was wondering where I was.

I went on a patrol.

A fucking patrol

* * *

**Earlier that night**

"Eh. Abbott what are you doin?" Gaurnere asked me

"What the does it look like I'm doing? Covering this goddamn hole that's what," I said as I grabbed another branch and threw it on top of my foxhole. "Christ, they haven't shelled us in a whole fuckin week. Give it a rest," said Gaurnere.

Give it a rest! Jesus! that's what Gaurnere told me right before the fucking Kraut's blew his leg off. You could say I was a little more than pissed at the pricks for hurting one of my best friends and so many of my other comrades.

"I need two volunteers for a patrol tonight, at 2100," Buck told us, and of course nobody volunteered.

"Abbott, Liebgott. You're up. Don't kill each other," I'm surprised he did that. I mean sure me and Liebgott always were a tough team to beat together- if we didn't try to kill each other first. And we made no effort to hide our hatred of one another. Maybe once or twice Liebgott and I had smiled at each other. But in this whole god damn war that wasn't a whole lot.

At 2100 hours I met Malarkey, and Luz at the line. "Where's Liebgott?" I asked

"Hello to you too!" Luz cried out sarcastically, and I rolled my eyes.

"He's just runnin a little behind Char," answered Malarkey.

"I hate patrolling with that ass hole," I said to no one in particular.

"And I hate having to patrol with such a bitch but we all make sacrifices," Liebgott replied sauntering towards me, lucky strike in hand. "Well g'night kids," Malarkey started to walk back towards his hole. "Oh and ah save some bullets for the krauts," Luz said pointing towards the other side of the line, and clapping Liebgott on the shoulder. Liebgott started to hum softly, smirking just a little bit as he kept his line of vision on the line. "Are you humming?" I asked rather surprised.

"Yea, White Christmas. You know that one?" he asked taking a slow drag from the cancer stick.

"I do. And that's not what you're humming," I pointed out.

"Did you just insult my humming skills?" he asked

I grinned "Yep. Now watch the god damn line," I stated. He kept on humming away. Not once had I known Joe Liebgott to be the type of guy who hums while he works, he was just doing this to annoy the crap out of me. "Jesus Lieb! Stop humming!" I shouted making my annoyance known.

"Woah sorry. Didn't know it was that time of the month," He said still smirking

I blushed "It's not! Not that it's any of your business," I snapped, keeping my eyes on the line.

"Like I said before babe, guns and menstrual cycles don't mix," Liebgott teased

I scoffed. "You know what? Fuck you!" I hissed. Just as Liebgott was about to reply a replacement ran up to the line, ready for battle. "I was told a third man was needed up here. At the line,"

"Okay," I said

Liebgott glanced him over, "Good. Now can ya please tell her that menstrual cycles and war don't mix," the young replacement blushed.

"Can you not refer to me as a pronoun," I snapped.

"Let's just watch the fucking line?" Liebgott replied, annoyed.

"Fine,"

"Good," we kept our eyes on the line, Liebgott and I occasionally stealing glances at one another, to see if each was doing their job correctly.

I should have known it at the time; the replacement was jumpy. A little too jumpy for my taste; and maybe it was a sign, of what lie ahead for the three of us. Maybe I should've listened to my gut.

* * *

**Joe's** **POV**

The fact that she is most likely smarter than me is the reason I treat her so badly, although she gives it right back to me. I would hate to see her get hurt (now don't go thinking that I fucking care about her) but girls in combat just seem like a bad idea.

I'm not talking about book smarts, I'm talking about life smarts. Jesus! The woman knows what everyone is gonna do before they even do it! And the fact that she could quite possibly be a better shot than me gives me all the more reason to pick a fight with her.

But damn she's beautiful when she's angry. While I may think that, I don't tell her; I would never give her that kind of ego boost. Lord knows she doesn't need one. Maybe I'd tell her now, if she ever comes back to me. It's my fault, you know... That _they_ took her from me.

I needed to find her, before it was too late.


	2. Fear, Betty Grable, and Dirt Walls

**_There's a time to take counsel of your fears, and there is a time to never listen to any fear. -General George S. Patton_**

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

"So dass Sie ein Fallschirmjäger sind," the German officer asked me whilst I sat on the cold hard ground, the rope digging into my wrists. I didn't answer him. Never would I answer to such a sorry excuse for a human being.

I looked past the guards and the officer, towards the wall- zeroing in on it as if I had some great interest in the average everyday dirt walls of the not-so-fine establishment.

"Ah der große amerikanische Soldaten. denkt, sie sind besser als alle," he said, once again interrupting my very interesting train of thought.

He stepped towards me and leaned in "Wer ist jetzt besser?" he laughed and I spat at him- probably not the best move. This angered the officer very much, as I had expected it to. But, once again he laughed; this time a little more menacingly, making me feel cold, but not fearful. No, I would not fear yet.

* * *

**Earlier that evening**

"I need to go," the jumpy replacment told me. Joe rolled his eyes and I let out a sigh.

"Stevens, you just went to take a piss. You can't possibly have to piss again," I said. He gulped, looked towards the sky, and then back at the ground. "The flares. They just shoot so many,"

"Relax. Please, you can't take a piss every time a kraut shoots a light into the sky," Joe growled with annoyance.

Stevens' eyes lit up with something close to fear "It's just that I've never had to fire a gun. And what if they get us! See us with the flares? And I die! What will they tell my mother?"

This kid was definitely too fucked up to be on patrol tonight. Good thing it was supposed to end in thirty minutes. "Okay. Go take the piss. But please, calm down?" I said, he just frantically shook his head and ducked behind a tree.

"Fuckin replacements," Joe shook his head and I laughed a little, something neither him nor I did often enough.

Minutes passed, and now I was the one starting to worry.

* * *

"Up! Jetzt!" The Officer ordered the guards. They roughly pulled me up by the arms, knocking my helmet off in the process. I gulped when the officer reached forward and and tugged on one of my light blond curls. I kept looking forward at the wall, feeling stone cold just like my expression. I would not give into the feeling of fear.

He sneered, "Dachte, ich wusste nicht, wie Sie wissen, eine Frau zu sein?" I gulped.

"Out!" He yelled to the guards. He grabbed at the nape of my neck, pulling on my hair as he leaned in towards my ear.

_Do not fear,_ I kept saying in my head_. It will all be over soon. _

I felt his hot breath tickle across my cheek. "Wenn Sie zusammenarbeiten, werden Sie und ich gut zurecht," he told me. He brushed his hand along my jaw and I resisted the urge to scream or cry. _Stone cold, I am stone cold _I chanted.

I'm not sure if I believed it.

* * *

**Earlier that evening**

"What the fuck is he doing?" I asked Liebgott.

"Maybe he needed a more substantial kind of relief," he suggested.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded, lighting up a lucky strike with my zippo.

Liebgott gave me a coy grin, "You know. Take out the picture of Betty Grable, lean back against the tree-"

I held my hand out in front of him, "Yea. You know what? I get the picture."

He held up his hands. "That's all I'm sayin', it makes sense," he let out a little laugh. "That's not what's happening anyways,"

"You have a dirty mind." I snapped

"Doesn't everybody?" He countered.

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to give him another witty retort until a twig snapped, causing all of my senses to go on alert and my hands to grip my gun tighter. Joe looked towards the trees and put a finger to his lips.

We waited for what felt like forever, until we didn't hear another sound."I'll check it out," I said walking towards where Stevens had gone only five minutes before.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I regret that I didn't go before her to check out what happened. This whole mess could've been prevented if I had gotten help when she didn't come back. But being the stubborn idiot that I am I just went in after her.

She could be dead right now because of me. Jesus! What were they doing to her right now I know she believed she was invincible. I just wish she really was.

* * *

**Translations**

**1. So you're a paratrooper?**

**2. The great American soldier, thinks they are better than all**

**3. Who is better now?**

**4. Up now!**

**5. Thought I didn't know about you being a woman?**

**6. If you cooperate, you and I will get along well**

* * *

**A/N:** Hi:) Here is chapter 2! I not really sure which way this story's gonna go- so I'm enjoying just seeing where it takes me! Thank you to my two lovely reviewers!

**Laura-** thank you! I really hope you like this chapter:)

**FallynAshe-** I'm so glad! He happens to be one of my favorites Too!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO and Stephen Ambrose. I mean no offense to the brave men and women who served during WWII.


	3. Impatient

******Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape. **

**Joe's POV**

I didn't exactly give the most thought to finding Abbott, I definitely didn't take into account the fact that I could be and would be captured.

I was so fuckin' tempted to try my luck with the krauts. Kick one, steal his gun, and shoot them all. What did I have to lose, right?

Well, actually, only two things: my life, and finding Abbott. I knew that if I ever got the chance to see her again, she would bust my balls about going after her and all that. Then she'd throw a bunch of shit around about how she can handle herself, and doesn't need a man to look after her. Finally, after I couldn't take anymore of her babbling I would end the lecture with a curt comment like: "Well what the fuck are you doing here then?" And she'd be angry for about thirty minutes until she realized that the only person who's there to listen to her babble is me. So she'd babble on for the rest of the God damn war. I only wish I could know for sure if that would happen or not.

Kraut trucks (if possible) are even more uncomfortable than our trucks. With the added fact of course that Kraut number one is rifling through my coat pockets (which he took), kraut number two is smoking _my _cigarettes, and kraut number three has his gun pointed at my face.

Good times.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

"Ich habe gehört, American Frauen sind viel abenteuerlicher," the officer spoke again. He started to rip the buttons of my coat open, then slowly my over shirt... I couldn't take it. It was all too much. I kneed him in the groin, but it didn't feel like I had hit him hard at all. Contrary to what I thought, however, my knee actually did have some effect on him.

"Ficken Hure!" He hissed backing away, bending slightly at the waist. He took several moments to compose himself, before coming towards me angrily. Yanking my shoulders, he pushed me towards the wall. I collided with it, sending pain throughout my body. Roughly he grabbed ahold of my throat and twisted his lips into something similar to a smile."Ich bin nicht mit dir ... Hündin tun," He let go of me, and walked out.

I coughed, my hands curling around my throat protectively. I couldn't think about it, I decided. I would think about it later, maybe. But he didn't hurt me- not physically, and I wouldn't let him hurt me mentally. You can prevent that, right?

* * *

**Hours Earlier**

Crack. I heard a nothing but another twig snap. Joe wasn't far away, I reminded myself. I stopped between the clearing of trees for a moment, cocking my head to try to hear where the sound was coming from. I stood completely silent now, the only thing I was remotely able to hear was the soft sound of fresh snow blanketing the trees, and brush.

Still nothing; I continued on, looking in between the trees for any sign of Stevens. I quietly called for him. "Private?"

I bit my lip and tried again."Stevens? It's Sergaent Abbott," I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, watching it in the air for a second, before returning to my search. Then. Then I heard it! A whimper so small, it was almost childlike. "Aw fuck," I said aloud, and increased my efforts in the search.

"Private? Are you okay? Where are you?" I asked still whispering. I felt warm breath behind me; I thought it must've been Stevens. Then metal on the side of my left temple. Now I was really fucked.

Two krauts; that was just my fucking luck.

* * *

**Joe's POV, Hours Earlier**

Being patient isn't exactly a Liebgott strong suit. I would wait for another minute, then I would get help.

It felt like hours; I lit another cigarette, paced back and forth, and watched my smoke float into the night sky. Abbott was taking longer than I had expected her to, but she was probably either grilling Stevens for taking long pisses or comforting him about a war that he had only been part of for two minutes. Although if it was the Abbott I knew, she had probably chosen the former option.

Still, it wasn't like her to take this long. Abbott was a straight and to the point kind of girl, no bullshit. But it was then; when a gunshot rang out, that I did the least logical thing in the fucking world- I ran towards it.

I sprinted towards the clearing of trees where the shot rang out, exactly where Abbott had gone moments earlier. No sign of her, anywhere. So I ran further into the brush, gun loaded and ready. There, leaning against a tree, half of his brain spattered on it, laid a motionless Stevens, eyes open and covered in blood. It was eerily quiet- too quiet. I had to find her. She was alive I knew it; I just hoped she would be alive when I found her.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

Nothing interesting happened for the next twenty minutes after the officer left. I sat alone while a guard smoked. _I could really go for one of those right about now_, I thought. Nobody pestered me, or touched me. If I closed my eyes and thought really hard, it was as if I had not been in a war zone. Of course, the faint sound of machine guns in the background did make my daydream a little difficult. I wish I could've pin-pointed the location of my quarters (it would make escape much easier) I knew we weren't too far from the front, but far enough for the machine guns to sound faint.

I knew my nice moment of peace wouldn't last long though. The guards came in and hastily lifted me up on my feet; one of them tied something around my eyes. They pushed me out the door of the small structure, and pushed my ass onto a truck. Oh goody, a field trip.

A short ride later- after my ovaries ached from the lacking in shocks truck- they not so gently deposited me on the ground and pushed me into the door of a new place. Then they took my blind fold off.

I wish I could tell you I was pleasantly surprised. It was nothing more than a barn, although it looked as though a family called it home at one time or another. The floors where dirt, and the tables and chairs had been removed; a beat up cabinet still sat in the corner, and an oil lamp sat on it. Small curtains still hung partially in the window. This house had been ransacked by the looks of it.

And to prove my theory true, there in the corner lay a small woven doll. A family had been thrown out of their home, and a somewhere there was probably a little girl wondering what happened to her doll. The small toy lying on the floor was proof that people had been shoved out of their homes, proof that many children's childhoods had been interrupted because of this war.

And for some odd reason, proof to me that the situation I was in was real. Proof that getting out of it was going to be much harder then I thought.

* * *

**Translations **

**1. I've heard, American women are much more adventurous**

**2. Fucking whore**

**3. I'm not done with you... bitch**

* * *

**A/N: Hi! I hope you like this chapter. Please, let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome:)**

**MASHlover23: Thank you so much for taking the time to review my story! I'm really glad you like Abbott's tomboyish personality. And, I feel the same way, that is super annoying lol. And the sexist comment thing, Joe seems like he would say that- so I'm glad you thought it was realistic. I tried to do what you suggested in this chapter- let me know what you think!**

******Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**


	4. Sunburn Dreams

**Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape.**

**Charlotte's POV**

I was getting pretty fucking tired of the whole musical houses thing. Who knew krauts where so indecisive when it came to POW's? They moved me from the small house to a bigger, slightly nicer family dwelling that they had also taken over. A German officer was waiting for me when I was escorted into the room of what looked like their HQ. "Gute Arbeit Jungs," the officer said as he walked a short distance over to me.

He stood in front of me, looking me square in the eyes. "You are Sergeant?"I looked at him surprised that he knew my native tongue. Then, I decided I wouldn't answer. Instead, I jutted out my chin and stared him down; I wouldn't fucking answer to krauts.

He slapped my cheek before speaking again, "Answer!" He roared.

I clenched my jaw and stayed silent.

The officer raised his hand again.

"Yes," I answered harshly, just to make him stop. He grasped the front of my chin, probably bruising it in the process. I fought back the urge to do what I had to the other officer, "Yes, what?" He asked, gripping tighter.

"_Sir_," I hissed, my lips curling around the word as if it were poison.

"Good girl," he stated, releasing my chin from his grip. I eyed him suspiciously and angrily. "You stubborn Americans think you are always smarter." The officer said as he walked behind me. "Always stronger," he leaned in towards my ear, and I felt his fowl breath rush across my skin, making it crawl.

"But not now," He chuckled. "Now you're my china doll, to do with as I please." So the creepy thing was kinda working for this guy. He chuckled again, and I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. I shivered internally, maybe I was scared...

Both of our eyes shot up at the sound of a loud thump,"Ey! Ey! Watch it would ya? Jesus." I knew that voice! Was it really Liebgott?! I never thought I'd be do happy to hear his voice, in fact he was usually the last person I ever wanted to see. But not this time, this time I wanted to cry tears of joy that he was here with me.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I found her, she was still alive, and she looked somewhat okay. Except for the red hand print on her cheek she looked perfectly normal.

They pushed me into a room, my guess was to chat with some kraut bastard, but instead my eyes found her, standing there with that arrogant and annoyed look on her face. She wanted to skin this kraut alive, I could tell.

I pitied the poor bastard. No really, I did.

"You look like shit," I said as they shoved me into the scantily clad room.

Abbott snorted,"Ya? Well you're not lookin' too hot yourself." It almost looked as though she was hiding back a grin she wanted neither me nor the krauts to see. It almost made me want to grin back. Almost."Enough chit chat," some dark haired, long nosed, beady eyed officer growled. He leaned in towards Abbott and said in a hushed tone "You will tell what we want to know."

She gulped, and I searched her face for some kind of reassurance that she was okay.

"Now," He sat down in a chair, and got all comfy before he asked the next question. "When do you plan on attacking Foy?" I scoffed. Did this jackass really think we would tell him that, I mean, come on, you've gotta be fucking kidding me! It's not like we knew the exact date and time anyway.

"You will tell us what we want to know!" The kraut thundered, obviously I had annoyed him. I looked at the wall and thought of giving Abbott a sideways glance to see if she was okay, but decided against it. Who knew what the krauts would do if they knew I was concerned about her?

But the kraut officer had already figured that out. "Protecting her?" He asked with a dangerously raised eyebrow.

I gulped, but said nothing. He grinned, and then did the unthinkable. He pulled out his pistol and summoned a guard over toward him. With the pistol locked and loaded, he made the guard put his back to him with his hands on the wall in front of him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Three rounds fired off in quick succession. He had blown the guards brains out onto the wall. He gave us a sickening, disgusting grin, wiped his hands on his coat, and walked out of the stared at the motionless guard for a second before looking back to her spot on the wall. The guards grabbed our arms roughly and shoved us into a cold, lifeless cellar.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

Really the cellar that they shoved us in was just a glorified foxhole. You had to climb down a ladder that came down from the ceiling before you could step onto the dirt floor that was lined with straw. It had one light bulb that hung from the ceiling, with a string attached to turn it on.

Several lonely barrels sat in the corner of the small space, holding some sort of food item. Or at least, I assumed it was food. There were also a few sacks of potatoes that the krauts hadn't found yet and another barrel of something—really it was more like a keg—which I desperately hoped was still full.

Charming, really—dirt walls and a wooden ceiling, and it was nice digs for a family of rats, if only I were one. And the temperature, I was so fucking cold, shivering even. They had taken my coat, and my smokes, and my scarf.

Krauts, right?

* * *

**Joe's POV**

It was actually awkward. She didn't talk, I didn't talk. We both refused to acknowledge the fact that we were equally scared shitless. So she stood looking at the keg in the corner while I figured out what to say.

"Nice place huh?"

"Yep," oh yeah, she was defiantly dodging something. "So, ah, you okay?"

Abbott gave me a dubious look, "Listen to you. Liebgott, I've known you for like three fuckin' years and not once have you asked me if I'm , don't get sentimental on me now," her words came out cracked, and she continued to look at the keg.

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Well Jesus, Abbott! Your shirts unbuttoned, you have a nasty mark on your face, you just watched a guy have his head fucking blown off, and, just to top it all off, you're at the krauts mercy! _Excuse_ me for showing a bit of human compassion!"

She turned around this time. Uh oh, I recognized that fire in her eyes, now I'd really done it. "I'm not at anyone's mercy!" she shouted angrily, and took in a deep breath. "I'm fine," she stated calmly as she buttoned up her shirt. "Why the fuck are you here anyways?" She inquired as she took a seat against the wall.

"I ran towards the shot," I stated simply.

Abbott blinked a few times. "Are you insane?"

"I might be," I shrugged, and took a seat about a foot away from her; I didn't want to overstep my boundaries or something. She got up as soon as I sat down, and walked over to where the keg was sitting.

She turned the spout on, waited, but nothing happened. "Come on baby give me some juice," she whispered as if her talking to it would make the spout suddenly work.

"Come on!" Abbott hit the thing on the side, and as if by magic, some liquid started to come out. Jesus, she was crazy. She put her mouth under the spout and drank some of the liquid. "Beer," she stated simply, and turned the faucet off.

"Why'd you turn the thing off?"

"We need to focus Joe," she said seriously, and sat back down.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

Joe yawned, and I shivered. I didn't know what the time was, and I knew there was no way in hell I was sleeping tonight. "I'm cold," I said simply to no one in particular.

Joe snorted, "Yea. So what else is new?" He got up from his spot, and walked over to the potato sacks, emptying the contents onto the floor. "Just a whole bunch of friggin rotten potatoes, perfect," he said, picking one up and examining it.

"Rotten," my voice was quiet, and I sounded slightly deflated. He grabbed both of the sacks and handed one towards me without a grumble. Surprising, really, because normally he'd tell me to get one myself or deal with my coldness.

"It'll keep you warm," He explained.

"Thanks," I put my feet in the sack like a sleeping bag, curled up in it, hoping to find warmth. No such luck.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

Really, it was fucking pathetic. She's shivering trying to sleep, and so am I. Normally this would be the time to share each other's body heat, that's what you did. But not when you had a deep seated hatred for one another, and both of you were too stubborn to admit you are actually still freezing. So of course, I had to be a man here, tell her to just get the hell over here.

"Christ, Abbott. It's not a mortal sin to share body heat. Get over here," I waved her closer with stiff movements.

She sniffed, looked towards me for a second, and then slowly scooted over next to me.

Awkward.

"I don't bite all the time Abbott," I joked.

She smiled a little and hit me in the stomach. "Shut the fuck up," she chastised.

"Seriously though, it's okay," I lifted my arm, so that she could find a comfortable spot. Darting her eyes away, she fit herself under my arm, and stiffly laid her head on my shoulder.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I just needed to fucking relax. I was warming up; actually, it was more like we were warming up, and in more ways than one.

"Relax. Please," Joe sounded slightly exasperated; I knew I was being annoying. "It's like I'm sleeping with a goddamn plank,"

"We're not sleeping together," I snapped, and prepared to move away.

"Come on. You know what I meant," He whined.

"Sorry," I said. What was wrong with me? I was acting like such a finicky, hormonal teenage girl. It hadn't exactly been a normal day; I guess maybe that's why Liebgott was being so considerate. I turned my face into his shoulder, and breathed in the scent of his jacket (hopefully without him noticing) cigarettes, coldness, almost spiciness, and leather. It comforted me instantly, and I relaxed against his side.

We sat for a while. Joe wasn't asleep and there was no way in hell I was sleeping with krauts above my head. "Don't let them know you can speak German," Liebgott suddenly said.

"Okay," I whispered. He was right. This way we could hear them talking, even though they thought we couldn't understand them. It would make them think they could speak freely, which we could then use to our advantage.

I shivered again.

"You know what I'm gonna do when we get outta here?" I murmured.

"Eat a piece of cake? Take a bubble bath?"

I allowed myself a wry smile, "Nope. Go to the beach and get a fucking sunburn."

We both laughed. It was all we had.

* * *

**Translations**

**1. Good work boys**

* * *

**A/N: Hi:) Another chapter... I hope you like it! I always appreciate some constructive criticism:D**

**Guest- Thank you! I'm glad you're hooked:) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**


	5. Hold On

_You've got someone here you can wrap your arms around_

_So hold on to me tight, hold on to me tonight_

_We are stronger here together than we could ever be alone_

_So hold on to me, don't you ever let me go_

~Michael Buble - Hold On

**Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape.***

**Charlotte's POV**

I didn't sleep, as much as I wanted to. Liebgott was so warm, maybe if we were in a bed—Whoa! What the fuck was I saying? I was supposed to hate him, all this captivity was going straight to my head!

I untangled myself out of a sleeping Liebgott's arms, quickly took the arm that had been wrapped around my waist, and placed on his chest. Paratrooper training has its disadvantages though; one of them being the fact that you cannot possibly be a sound sleeper—and unfortunately, Liebgott is not.

"What the fuck?" He exclaimed before opening his eyes and realizing it was me.

Awkwardly, I was still holding on to his arm, but quickly pulled my hand away when he said. "Oh, it's you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Well who the fuck did you think it was?"

"Gee, I don't know; a kraut?" He rolled his eyes and sat up. I actually forgot about the shit heads up stairs for a second.

"Oh. That," I whispered.

"What's wrong with you anyways?" He asked.

I sat back down beside him, and took a breath in from my nose before speaking again. "I'm good, peachy," I said just as my stomach let out a loud growl, blowing my cover.

"Hungry," Joe stated plainly.

"No shit Sherlock," I muttered, and maybe I was being a little bitter.

Liebgott huffed. "Great. I'm stuck in a room with a testy, hormonal woman." He stood up, and kicked off the potato sack.

"Why are you so obsessed with my hormones anyways, Joe?" I asked, annoyed.

He gave me a sideways glance. "You just made this really weird."

Yah, I did, but I was honestly too tired to care at the moment. "Yep," I admitted. "What are you going to do about it though?"

Liebgott opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by the chilling sound of someone opening the door to our cell and pushing themselvesdown the ladder.

My nose tingled as fresh air wafted through the small room and my stomach growled again, I knew that smell anywhere. That was the smell off cooked food, hot food, food I wanted _now!_

_"_Abbott, listen," Joe said through clenched teeth. "Don't eat it."

I shook my head to clear it, he was right. Lesson one of combat training, do _not_ eat the kraut food; you don't know what kinda mind games they're playing.

"Yum," the same officer from before said as he entered out cell. He held the cup of hot soup in front of my face, but I made no eye contact. No matter how badly I wanted to eat the soup. "It's just soup," he prompted.

I thought that maybe if I closed my eyes the Germans and their soup would go away, but I had no such luck. They waved soup in front of Liebgott's face too, and I was pretty sure he was going to blow a gasket soon.

"When are you attacking?" The officer asked while still holding the soup.

I turned my face away and looked at the side wall.

"Oh...She likes it rough," he said, and the sound of his laughter grated against my ears, but I kept my eyes firmly away from him. Maybe if I ignored him, he would go away.

His hand gripped around my neck, and I gasped for air.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

As soon as that bastard gripped around her neck I lost it. I knocked the soup out of the kraut's hand and charged forward "Get the fuck off her!" A kraut guard restrained me, and punched me in the face. Fuckin' kraut! I wiped my bloody lip on my sleeve, ready to fight again. If they hurt her, I swore to god I would find a way to kill each and every one of them in return.

The officer roughly let go of her and she fell back against the wall. "Achten Sie auf diese," he commanded, and walked up the ladder.

One of the guards proceeded to pull out his gun, and I thought it was the end. He pointed it straight at Abbott, _oh god no please. Not her! _He fired three rounds directly next to her ear. I couldn't tell if she was scared by the look on her face, but I knew she was—she just didn't want to give the krauts the satisfaction.

They laughed at us boisterously, and grabbed me by the arms. I didn't want to leave her alone, not now.

"Joe. Don't let them use me against you," she pleaded. "Please. I'm okay," her eyes finally betrayed her as she looked at me by showing the amount of fear she felt for me, for her, for this whole situation we were in.

I could only look back at her, not knowing if I would ever see her again.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I didn't know where the fuckers were taking him; I just needed him safe and back here with me. There was something in the way he said "Get off her," I guess. I had always hated him because he hated me, but maybe he doesn't really hate me anymore. Maybe Liebgott actually cares a little more than he would like to admit.

I sat against the wall and listened to the yelling. I cringed when I heard Joe yell "Fuck," and then the officer say that if he told them what they wanted to know, it would all be over. Then, "Not on your fucking life," followed by a few more thuds and a string of profanities coming from Liebgott.

I did consider telling them what they wanted to know, as far as I knew they had only begun to torture us. But, I don't think I'd ever be able to betray my fellow comrades- my friends, hell they were even my surrogate family. I hoped that if the krauts thought we knew something valuable, they would spare us and we would have better chance of escaping.

And so, for now, I was just going to have to wait, wait and pray for a way out of this mess.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I classify that event as one of the more terrifying moments of my life. My body never ached more than it did after that. Not even when I was hit by shrapnel. And the more they beat me, the more I thought about giving up. But then Abbott came into my mind, and I remembered why I had to continue to stay silent. We would get out of here. I would find a way.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I don't think I've ever wanted army beans more than I did right then.

I just wanted Joe back and a good old can of army beans. Yes, the kind that caused "intestinal issues" to anyone who so much as looks at them. I was feeling lightheaded. It had been at least twenty four hours since I last ate, so I decided to eat the only option in sight. Rotten potatoes, raw, yum.

I took one and examined it in my hand before biting into the potato. It tasted, well... _Earthy. _Chalky, sour, and dry, just like everything else was around here. But I ate half of it anyway, allowing my task to take my mind off Joe, if only for a second.

Then the unfamiliar image of light came through the door, and very slowly, Joe made his way down the steps.

Fuck. He was hurt.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I walked down that ladder slowly, because it hurt. And I could imagine the look Abbot would have in her eyes when she took in the sight of me. But she didn't help me, and I understood. The krauts were waiting for me to get down the ladder so they could shut the door and I couldn't appear weak in front of them.

So they watched, and I tried to mask my pain.

They shut the door, and I sat on the floor.

I didn't move because I wasn't sure if I could.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I had never seen Joe show pain before, and when he did show pain you knew it was always genuine. I didn't rush towards him because I didn't want him to feel embarrassed, but as soon as I came to him, he froze. Back to the Joe who covers his feelings up with anger, back to the closed off Joe.

"Come on," I growled, weren't we past this? "Here, I'll help you up," I said, putting his arm around my shoulder, and my arm around his waist. I supported as much of his weight as I could, but I could still feel him holding back.

He sucked a breath in as he lowered to the ground and I turned the light on so that I could assess the damage.

Situating myself next to him, I lightly touched his jaw with my fingertips. Black eye, bloody nose, and some bruising on his cheek. "Joe. Where else does it hurt?" I questioned.

He looked away from me and clenched his jaw. "I can fucking handle it myself,"

Irritation briefly took over me, "Too bad, 'cause I'm here," my tone was razor sharp, so I softened my voice. "Please. Just tell me where it hurts."

"My chest feels tight," he said sheepishly, refusing to make eye contact.

"Okay, um," I cleared my throat before continuing. 'You'll need to remove your shirt,"

"Why the fuck do you sound so formal Char?" he asked, breaking the ice.

"Just get the god damn shirt off, 'kay?" I hissed, and smiled a little.

"Eager," he smirked, before moving to unbutton his shirt. He sucked in another sharp breath through his teeth, so I moved his hands and unbuttoned the shirt. I knew I was blushing, but I was hoping Joe wouldn't notice. I would never live it down!

I slid the uniform off his arms and onto the floor before moving to his T-shirt. I tried to remove it as quickly as possible, causing him the most minimal amount of pain possible, but I knew it really hurt, I could tell by the clench in his jaw.

I kept clearing my throat to keep from being too embarrassed. My cheeks where bright crimson and I knew Liebgott had most likely seen it by now.

He was thin, but without being too thin, his abs and arm muscles clearly defined... Paratrooper training had its advantages. I cautiously moved my hands around his diaphragm, searching for broken ribs. Moving up his chest, I saw him gulp.

"Am I causing you pain?" I asked quietly.

He cleared his throat, "No," was all he said.

No broken ribs, though one could be fractured. I quickly got up, and ripped one of the burlap sacks, and drenched it in beer. I came back over and cleaned his facial wounds. He looked at me, and I looked at him for a second before I darted my eyes away.

"How do you know this anyway?" He asked.

"My grandfather was a doctor. Tried to teach me," I said.

"Huh," was all he said. As if I had said something greatly interesting.

I finished cleaning his wounds before I deposited the rag in the corner, and helped him put his shirts back on. I moved to the corner to sleep, not wanting to invade his personal space.

"Abbott. It's cold over here," he said after a while. I moved myself over, cautious not to hurt him, and he put his arm out for me to curl up. Wrapping both his arms around me this time, though I was sure it caused him pain.

"Thanks," he murmured into my hair.

"Welcome," I said softly, before falling asleep.

* * *

**Translations **

**1. Take care of this**

* * *

**A/N: Hi:) I think Thursdays may be the updating day from now on... I** **would love to know your thoughts on the chapter- good or bad:)**

**MASHlover23- I squealed in joy when I read your review! I hope you continue to like Charlotte and this story! Hopefully I did good on the Liebgott and Charlotte sweetness in this chapter:D I'm so glad you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**


	6. Pain

**Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape.**

**R&R? **

**Joe's POV**

I slept for two hours—tops. I was sore, hungry, and pissed that we were in this whole god damn kraut mess. I needed to find a way to get us out of here, and by this point I would accept any idea at all. I knew no one was coming for us, and our chances of escaping this place alive were so slim I didn't dare think about them. But by now anything was better than this, this waiting for them to kill us. This was my definition of hell.

I knew Abbott was hiding her fear, but it was beginning to show; I noticed she would jump slightly if she heard kraut voices. I started to worry that if they got to her I might never get her back.

That dark dismal basement was lonely and damp. We didn't know whether it was night or day unless the krauts opened the door. I was slowly beginning to burn out from exhaustion, but Abbott was the one fadingfast. The circles under her eyes were dark and her eyes were blood shot; exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.

The thing is; it became pretty awkward when I realized how badly I needed to piss. It was one of those situations you thought you'd never find yourself in; You know, like losing your kid in the grocery store or shaving your Uncle's back (long story.) Where the fuck could I even piss?

I tried to hold it in any way possible. I got up, paced, hummed a song, did multiplication tables in my head—anything to take my mind of the urge to piss, and all the while Abbott pretended to sleep.

I banged against the wall with my fists. "When are we gonna fuckin' get out of this god damn shit hole?"

"Shut up Joe! And piss already, please? Jesus," she mumbled something else about being stuck with Nazi's and the only paratrooper that she genuinely hates.

I waved my hands around manically. "And just _where_ am I supposed to piss?"

"Creativity... Joe," she sat up.

I sighed and kicked the floor. "I am not pissing in front of you,"

"Why? Stage fright?" Her tone was bitingly sarcastic. I snorted, "I'll cover my eyes. 'Kay?"

"If you ever mention this to anyone—"

'You'll kill me, and hide the evidence?" she retorted.

Well, after some deliberation, I was finally able to relive myself.

_Thank God_. I thought to myself.

Abbott said she would've killed me if I kept going on like that. But hey—we've really made progress since Toccoa; I still remember those days when I wanted nothing more than for her to get the fuck outta my line of vision.

* * *

**Camp Toccoa, Georgia 1942**

Charlie Abbott was a short, quiet, but confident little fucker. The first day of training at Camp Toccoa, he sauntered in, observed the room, sat down on the bed, and lit a smoke. The little shit didn't even acknowledge any of us, unless it was absolutely necessary. Well, fuck I took that opportunity and bullied that kid—hell we all did.

Rumor was that Charlie's father was some big wig general, and that's the only reason he got into the paratroops. Honestly, I didn't care. I just cared that he was short, skinny, and a complete introvert; perfect to pick on.

But the thing was; Sobel was extra hard on Charlie. He'd have this kid out in the night running the course in the rain, running up Curahee on his own, and revoking every one of the few passes that Charlie got. He didn't need all this extra Sobel attention though; as much as I didn't like to admit it, Charlie was just as good a soldier as the rest of us. But you know Sobel—find one soldier who could potentially be the 'weak link' and try to break the kid before he even got a chance.**  
**

I didn't let this Sobel torture deter my bullying though. But the other guys—my friends actually, started to become friends with Charlie. Luz and Charlie became good friends, so did Shifty and Guarnere.

The thing that really pissed me off was that people started to like him. It's not like I was jealous (I have friends too) but to me, Charlie needed to prove that he was more than an average paratrooper, he needed to prove that a little bullying wouldn't stop him from being in E company.

It wasn't as though he made it hard to pick on him either. There were some things that were seriously off about this guy, and I jumped right on those bullying opportunities. The kid never even shaved so I'd say things like: "Hey Charlie, come back to the paratroopers when you are a man!"

Then there were the times where he wouldn't dance or talk to dames. I'd send one his way, and laugh when he'd act completely uncomfortable and embarrassed.

Even stranger than that, though, was when he wouldn't shower until late at night. I'd usually find a way to make the showers "out of order." The kid took it all in stride though, not saying a word to me. Then, I finally realized it. The guys would tell me to leave him alone, or stop bothering him. Something they wouldn't have done (my jokes were harmless) unless Charlie was actually a female.

It explained a whole fuckin' lot. So I did something I'm not proud of, something I will always feel guilty about. Charlie was already in the showers when I got there, so I did the logical thing... I walked in on him (her?)

The day that Charlie became Charlotte was also the day I looked like a complete idiot.

She screamed, and a bunch of guys came to the sight. In his—her?—moment of fright, Charlie forgot about his deep voice and screamed like the girl that he actually was. She stood there hiding behind the shower stall, her cheeks burning with clear anger while I told the whole world who she actually was. Only a select few knew about Charlie's real identity, so naturally most of the guys found this extremely interesting.

I threw a towel at her, being a complete gem, and that was when Lt. Nixon joins the party. He told me that I was fucking idiot, put all of the other officers to shame for staring, and took Abbott back to the barracks. Half of the guys in the company hated me for the next week, and the other half completely agreed with my tactic.

Thus began a long, almost three year journey of hatred between Abbott and me.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

The kraut's rather loud entrance startled me and pulled Joe out of his reverie. This time felt different, it felt more violent and rushed. They instantly pulled Joe up the ladder, not giving me a chance to say goodbye, and left me alone with the officer.

I felt trapped, and scared, and very vulnerable when he backed me into a corner. He reached up and gripped my jaw. I knew what he was doing and it couldn't happen. I wouldn't let it happen.

"Please, no," I begged.

He grinned, and I gulped. I could feel the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

This could not happen.

"You will stay quiet." He commanded.

I didn't answer, because no matter how hard I tried, my lips would not move to form a word. All I could think of was Joe, and how I just desperately needed to feel his warmth again. I felt so cold. It wasn't the shivering kind of cold, but a kind of painful ice that rises within you when you realizethat you are about to be faced with your final moments.

This was the end for me.

The officer slammed me against the wall, and I cried out in pain. He violently slapped me across the face for my show of weakness.

Hastily, he pulled my pants and underwear down, tearing any last ounce of dignity that I had from me. Doing away with his own pants, he quickly tore through me and took the thing from me that I had worked so hard at saving.

It hurt more than anything I had ever felt before, and he reminded me with every thrust just how worthless I was.

"_Whore_," he hissed into my ear. "Filthy scum," he snarled.

It felt like hours before he came inside me. Something that should be preserved for love, an act that was supposed to be beautiful, was now the most traumatic and painful event in my life.

I was too numb when he dropped me to the floor to process the fact that my blood was seeping through my coat. I sat there, my hands limp as they lay in my lap. I felt as though all of the life had been sucked out of me, leaving nothing but a shell behind. He was right, I was nothing, worthless.

The officer stood and straightened his clothing, staring down at me with an angry sneer. I didn't even process it at first when I felt the cold metal against my temple.

He had done his deed, and now was going to do away with me with a Luger.

* * *

**A/N: I just want to say, that I hope I did this chapter justice. Rape is a horrible, terrifying thing, and having never gone through it myself, I hope I did okay to describe it as best I could. I mean no disrespect to anyone who has gone through that situation, my heart goes out to you.**

**Mashlover23: thank you again for your lovely reviews! I really appreciate the feedback:)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**


	7. Not Gonna Yell at Me

******Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape.**

**R&R? :)**

* * *

**_I'm asking for your help_**

**_I am going through hell_**

**_Afraid nothing can save me_**

**_But the sound of your voice_**

**_~How, Maroon 5_**

**Joe's POV**

I didn't want think about what that bastard was doing to her, what he was saying to her, how he was toying with her mind. Would I ever get to see her again?

Those bastards knew they were torturing me, oh boy did they know _exactly_ what they were doing, and that's what pissed me off the most about this whole situation.

I sat and waited while they tortured my fellow comrade, who just happened to be female.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I just wanted to curl up, crawl in a hole and die. I was a whore—a flat out whore who let someone take what they wanted from me without a second thought. If I had only stayed put, not let Stevens take a piss. Hell, if I hadn't joined the Army, nobody would be in this mess. Joe would be back in a foxhole, Stevens would be alive, and I would be back in the states being a normal, twenty-one year old girl.

That was the problem really; I wasn't your average girl. I wouldn't be in the Army if I didn't want to be, the trouble was that I_did_ want to, and right then I hated myself for it.

"Chin-up kid," my grandfather used to say to me. What would he say to me now?

I knew exactly what my mother would say: "I told you so," nothing more, nothing less. Before now, as far as I was concerned, my mother could go fuck herself, but right then her words seemed to be making more sense.

I just wanted to go back and fix it. It was my fault!

But I wouldn't give into the Krauts, I wouldn't surrender. No matter how worthless I was, I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had caused me this much pain. My "shield" would have to go back up, the shield that won't let anyone in, the shield that worked so well for so long.

The shield that makes me look strong on the outside while all the while I was crumbling on the inside.

Lesson number one: never let anyone see your weakness.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I expected them to finish me off, or at least beat me again, but that didn't happen. They did something much worse. They killed Charlie.

A single shot rang out, followed by the Officer exiting the basement. "Es ist vollbracht," he said.

All I could think about was her face, her innocent looking beautiful face, now lifeless, her body lying on the cold hard ground, all alone. She must have been so scared, so helpless. I vowed then and there that I would find a way out; I would kill all of them, because to me they were nothing more than monsters. Ruthless murders who deserved to rot in hell.

I watched them all carefully, every muscle in my body ready to run like hell for my freedom. I forced myself to wait, and tracked their footsteps with my eyes. This would by my only chance; I couldn't afford to screw it all up.

Now.

I swiftly jumped up, carrying the chair I was tied to with me. I clambered over to the piece of shit that was the German officer, before the other krauts had time to react.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" I shouted.

The officer summoned the guards over before I had a chance to get any closer. If my hands weren't bound I could have easily decked them both and killed the officer, but that would've been too easy.

"The problem is that you will not give in like she." He hissed, his face twisting around the curves of his mouth in a way that looked more animalistic than human.

I struggled to restrain myself from trying to beat the living shit out of him. He laughed. "Once she gave in, I was able to do with her what I pleased,"

I froze. Oh no, I wouldn't believe this stupid fucks mind games. Abbott did _not_ tell him, she couldn't, and I wouldn't let myself believe him.

"She was helpful too." He said, and I glared at him. He came closer to me this time, still smiling. He leaned in close to my ear, as if he were about to tell me his greatest secret. "I fucked her." He whispered.

No. No he didn't. Not her, not my Abbott.

I felt his stinking breath tickle my ear as he continued. "I fucked her, and can you guess what happened?"

I clenched my fist, but stayed still.

"Come on, guess." He taunted, and leaned in even closer when I didn't answer. "She _liked_ it."

That's it, I couldn't take it anymore. I clenched my jaw and struggled in the guards hold, kicking and thrashing in a vain attempt to make a break for Abbott. I needed to see her; I needed her to tell me it wasn't true.

"Charlotte!" I screamed. "Charlie!"

They laughed, kicked me, and pushed me down into the basement.

I gulped for fear of what I would see.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I would not cry. I needed to get myself the fuck together—there was no time to be sad; never anytime to be sad. Anger is an alternative to sadness in my world, anger is my coping mechanism. I needed to cope, and I needed someone to direct my anger towards.

When Liebgott first came down the stairs, my first instinct was to run to him and cry, but then I remembered that he would want nothing to do with me when he found out that I had whored myself out to a German.

I decided instead that I had no choice but to shut him out. Of course, that whole plan was shot to hell once he looked at me.

I curled in on myself, and waited for him to start yelling.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

She wasn't dead, but it was almost worse.

Her face was red and swollen, her curly hair was no matted and stuck to the side of her face, and her crumpled shirt was covered in blood. Oh fuck no. Not her, they couldn't do this to her. Nobody deserved this, but especially not her. _Not her._

"Shit," I cursed, and rushed over to Abbott. I touched her shoulder, but she backed away. What had they done to her? She was acting so unlike herself, Abbott never acted scared. I bent down next to her. "Charlie? It's me, Joe." I murmured, and tried to look as though I wasn't a threat to her.

She didn't make eye contact with me, but she didn't back away either. "Help me," she squeaked.

I motioned towards her shoulder. "Can I take a look?" I asked.

She quickly shook her head no, and swallowed.

I grabbed her pants and undergarments that were carelessly tossed to the other side of the dirt floor, and made my way back over to her.

"Please don't look at me," she whispered, embarrassed.

I nodded, and turned away.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

Joe turned his back, protecting what little modesty I had left. My body screamed at me for moving, my shoulder hurt like hell. I pulled my OD pants back on despite my shoulder's protests and sucked in a deep breath, trying to pull the air all the way down into my toes. I needed to be strong. I needed to pull it together.

"Okay," I said softly, unable to speak loudly.

Liebgott turned back around. He lightly touched my shoulder, and I flinched, "Char? Can I please take a look?"

Joe was being so sweet, but I knew from the look in his eyes that he wanted to go and find the Officer. I nodded my head yes this time, knowing that he wasn't going to give up.

I moved to unbutton my shirt, but hissed when a sharp pain shot through my arm. Joe moved to unbutton my shirt instead.

I immediately shoved him away as hard as I could, my shoulder screaming at the abrupt movement.

He toppled over onto the ground, and stared up at me with shocked eyes.

I could feel my whole frame shaking, and I couldn't help it this time when the tears pooled in my eyes. "I—I'm s—sorry, Joe, I d—don't know why I…"

"Don't apologize." He stood, but gave me my space. "It's alright, I should've asked."

I swallowed, and stared down at my shoes.

Joe stepped closer, one hand hovering over the buttons of my shirt. "May I?"

I nodded, but wouldn't meet his eyes. Why hadn't he yelled at me yet? He should be hurling every insult he could think of at me, and yet here he was instead, helping me. I wasn't quite sure how to feel about that yet. Should I be disappointed that he can't see how low I've become, or comforted that he seemed to care for me?

Wait, did Joe… Did he _care_ about me?

My whole face and neck turned bright crimson over that thought, because even in a situation such as this I couldn't control my blushing.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I unbuttoned her shirt for her, and as awkward as it was, I knew that was what she needed from me right then. Maybe one day I'd be able to unbutton her shirt for a much happier circumstance—one that I could not think about right now. Once I finished unbuttoning, I helped her pull the shirt off her shoulders, and tried not to think about how beautiful she was.

I cleared my throat before pulling her undershirt and bra strap down to get a better look at the wound. She looked at my hands when my fingertips brushed over the wound. "What should I do?" I asked.

"You need to..." She hesitated. "Pull it out."

The kraut was obviously a good shot, but for some reason, did not want to kill her. The bullet was a few inches away from her heart, where the arm and shoulder meet; he obviously planned it that way.

"Ready?" I asked, and she nodded her head yes. I quickly dug my fingers into the hole, searched until they closed around the cold piece of metal,and pulled them out. Her face was twisted into a painful grimace, but she chose not to speak.

I tossed the bullet to the ground, and used my other hand to put pressure on the wound just as I had seen Doc Roe do before. "We need a tourniquet,"her tone was flat, cold and clinical.

What the fuck did we have to use? My belt, I quickly yanked it off and fastened it tightly above the wound. I could see the pain written all across Charlotte's face, and tried to make it seem like I didn't notice when she let out a soft whimper.

I then did what she had done for me last night. I took a piece of the burlap sack, drenched it in beer, and carefully wiped the blood away. Damn she was beautiful, even when she was beaten up and barely able to keep the pain at bay. Maybe it was her strength that made her the most beautiful. Strength I had always been aware of, but never appreciated until now.

She was brave, that was it. Abbott had to be one of the bravest people that I knew.

"Thanks," she said quietly once I had finished.

"What happened?" I asked, tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Cold." she whimpered, and broke into choked sobs.

"Aw kiddo, here," I took my jump jacket and put it around her shoulders. I gently put my arms around her and scooped her up in my lap. Again, she froze. I let out a frustrated huff. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not going anywhere."

She buried her head in my neck as I rubbed small circles on her back. After a little while she relaxed in my arms. I tried not to think about what that Kraut had done to her. If I thought about it too much, I would've gone crazy right then and there and tried to find the kraut, but right now as much as I wanted too, I couldn't show my anger. I had to be calm for Abbott. I had to be just as strong as her, for her.

I had to prove I was brave too.

After a while she stopped sobbing, and adjusted her position so that she was leaning on my chest next to me. "Let's talk about something." I murmured. "I'll tell you a story or something to keep your mind of things."

"Okay," she yawned, relaxing her head against my chest. "Tell me about your childhood," she murmured.

I started off, but soon began to realize that Abbott had fallen asleep, probably for the first time in a long time.

I took a moment to look at her before quickly getting up. She looked relaxed, at peace, and somehow that only made her look even more gorgeous to me. The idea that someone—anyone—could ever think of harming Charlotte was so repulsive it made my entire body quake with anger. I needed to avenge her. I needed to prove I could be brave like her, so I would be worthy of her trust.

I made my way to the door, I would find that bastard.

And boy would he regret what he did.

* * *

**Translations:**

**1. It is finished**

* * *

**A/N:** **Hello:) It's been a little while! But, I took a little time and with the help of the wonderful,fabulous Orchids117 went through and improved each chapter. Not huge changes, just little things:) You should check it out! I really hope you like this chapter, I always appreciate constructive criticism:D**

**MASHlover23:** **I glad you thought the first part was funny, I thought infusing a little humor into the beginning would be a good balance. Thank you for saying that you thought it was written tactfully, your opinion means a lot!**

**FallynAshe: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you think so, I was nervous about how that last part was written- but your review reassured me:)**

**Guest: Here's an update, just for you! I'm so glad you like the story:D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**


	8. Cranky

**Rated M for later chapters, sexual situations, language, and mentions of rape.***

**R&R? **

**Joe's POV**

"Joe?" Oh shit. I was just about to pull down the stairs when I heard Abbott's sleepy voice from behind me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Angry Abbott was back.

I cleared my throat. "We need food. I was uh... Gonna go do that."

She pushed herself up into a sitting position with her good arm. "At least come up with a creative lie," she said. "Besides, we have a feast of potatoes right here." Abbott motioned to the sacks of rotten potatoes that we had there with us.

"Well, I don't know about you, Abbott, but I can't survive off of fucking starch alone. I need real food, any more questions?"

"Yea one more question Joe. You wouldn't be trying to escape without me now would you? I know I'm the weak link and all—but you at least owe a girl a fucking chance to try!" Her voice was barely an angry whisper she was so mad. "Is that what you were planning on doing Joe? Because I think we at least owe each other the common courtesy of telling the other when you're gonna leave them here to die! Rot in a fucking basement alone. God, I knew I started to overestimate you!"

I forgot that she didn't know that I knew about what the Officer did to her, but it made me angry nonetheless to think that she thought I was capable of just tossing her aside.

I turned around sharply. "Are you fucking serious right now? You think, after all we've been through together, I would just toss you aside? That I would leave you to rot?! Are you fucking out of your mind?"

She scoffed. "You know what Joe? Call me crazy, but it was only a few days ago that you would've liked nothing more than for me to step on a mine!"

I growled. I knew getting into an argument when you're hungry, tired, hurt, and one of you is possibly emotionally unstable—and it's not me—was a bad idea, but what the hell right? We had nothing better to do.

I let out an angry huff. "Why don't you just calm the fuck down for a second and think about one thing: how did I get here?"

She blinked, surprised by the change in my tone. "You… You ran towards the shot."

"Yea, I did."

We didn't say anything for a while after that, only sitting in silence. I wondered what Abbott was thinking about.

I also wondered how I would find the officer.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I don't know why I stirred that up; it was caddy of me and stupid. It's unfair of me to think that Joe doesn't care about me, especially after all he's done and how he's been there for me since we've been in this mess. Despite the fact that I knew I was in the wrong, I refused to say anything for the simple fact that I don't like to apologize. My father drilled into my head early on that Abbott's do not apologize for anything.

But you know what? This situation deserved an exception.

Joe sat far away from me on the opposite wall, his hands in his lap and his eyes far away.

I swallowed down my pride, and straightened myself up. "Joe, I'm really sorry. That wasn't fair."

He looked at me for a second before scooting a few feet closer to me. "Don't give me crap about you being the weak link. Because you and I both know that's not true."

He looked at me and I searched his face for some trace of doubt showing that he was lying, but I couldn't find any. I scooted closer to him, and again we did our usual routine of trying to keep warm and waiting for kraut activity.

I longed for water, my mouth felt horribly dry and the rest of me was beginning to feel lethargic. I'm sure Joe was fatigued as well, he hadn't slept at all.

"You know what I could really go for right now?" Joe suddenly asked.

"Hmm," I grunted, too lazy to answer properly.

"Pan seared porterhouse steak—the perfect combination of tender and firm, and a twice baked potato; crispy on the outside, soft and cheesy on the inside."

I pursed my dry lips. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of baby back ribs carefully brushed with sweet barbecue sauce with only the slightest hint of spice. And then, on the side, a nice heaping vat of freshly fried French fries evenly salted with a side of mayonnaise to dip in."

Joe moaned. "Fucking Christ, you had me at ribs."

"Now we just have to get outta here," I said, deflated.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

As soon as the stairs where lowered, I felt Abbott tense up. I quickly grabbed her hand and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. Unlike the other times, I could see fear etched all over her face.

"Don't let him get to you." I whispered.

"Same goes for you." She whispered back.

"Hello!" Fuck face sounded a little too cheery for my taste, "Up, Jetz!" He ordered as per usual, and the guards pulled us on our feet.

Abbott looked as pale as a ghost. He came close to her, and she backed up as much as possible. I hated feeling helpless like this. He reached up and caressed her jaw, the action causing her swallow quickly, and beads of sweat to form on her upper lip.

"Miss me?" He asked in a sugary tone, making my veins seethe with hatred.

She didn't answer, only clenching her jaw to stay composed. He slapped her. I struggled in the guards hold.

"I said, miss me?" He thundered.

"Yes," she hissed through clenched teeth.

His smile twisted around the corners. "I missed you too. You're such a good fuck, only a whore. That's why the army keeps you around isn't it? You're only good for one thing. That is, of course, unless you decide to tell us the information that we want to know."

She closed her eyes, I guessed it was to tune him out and concentrate on her own thoughts, when he caressed her shoulder.

He leaned in closer to her. "It can all be over now, all the suffering—the hunger, thirst, pain."

He was a liar, one big fucking liar.

"Get the hell away from me," she said quietly.

"What?" He asked.

There's my Abbott.

"Get. The. _Hell_. Away. From. Me!" She shouted. I couldn't help but smirk a little at the flabbergasted look that appeared on the Officers face for a moment, before he replaced it with anger.

"Meine Herren was wir zuvor gesprochen." He ordered.

The guard violently shoved Abbott by the shoulder, making her cry out in pain. They kicked us both towards the stairs, and I wondered if this really was the fucking end.

* * *

**Translations:**

**1. Up, Now!**

**2. Gentlemen, what we talked about before**

* * *

**A/N: Hello:) I hope you like this chapter! Thursday updates aren't working for my schedule right now, with finals coming up and all. But, I will most definitely be updating once a week on random days. A big thank you once again to Orchids117! I always appriceate some constructive criticism:D **

**Mashlover23: Yes, finally:) I'm glad you think they are precious together, although it's just the beginning for these two;) And as for that part concerning the evil officer, I'll try not to disappoint. **

**Guest: Glad you loved it! Here ya go, just for you:)**

******Disclaimer: I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.**


	9. Fear's a Bitch

**R&R? :)**

_"Without fear there cannot be courage." ~Christopher Paolini _

**Charlotte's POV**

I desperately tried to hide the fact that my breathing was labored and quick; the situation was becoming increasingly unnerving. The room went pitch black as soon as they shoved a pillow case down on my head. I reached for Joe's hand, but I couldn't find it. They had separated us.

I expected it to be over right then. Hell, I almost even wished it; then the fear and guessing would be over, the mind games would be through. I would be at peace.

They say fear is a soldier's worst enemy. I can tell you that it's true, fear is debilitating; we act out of fear. We have war because of fear. Some even die out of fear. I guess I had tried to push it down for too long. The more I didn't acknowledge my fear, the more it bubbled up, ready to be uncorked at any given moment. That moment couldn't be now.

It pained me to think that the officer didn't feel one ounce of remorse, if he did, he wouldn't be doing this to us. How can one man be so evil, and not give a damn? What was he gaining from this? We weren't criminals; we were just soldiers fighting for freedom. I didn't understand. I would never understand.

The guards dragged me to what felt like outside, the wind chill and crunch of snow beneath my boots proved my theory true. We stopped at the sound of a running vehicle—Oh great. Another field trip was in sight.

"Up!" I froze as soon as the guard put his hand on my ass. I had been freezing up ever since...well, you know, "Up!" He said again, but I wasn't budging; I couldn't—I was just stuck.

"Charlie. It's okay," Liebgott firmly reassured me. He was here with me! I thought we had been separated for good, but he was still here. I used that small ounce of courage that he gave me and did my best to get into the truck blindfolded. Not an easy task.

I felt around for a spot to sit on the bench, almost comfortable for a split second before I was once again squished between two guards, one whose breath was so bad that eating a shit sandwich would've been an improvement.

"Would you fucking watch it please? Jesus." Joe grumbled. I almost grinned, even in a situation as shitty as this Joe still had the nerve to complain. Honestly, we didn't really have anything left to lose. But of course, the guards didn't like Liebgott's grumbling, and instantly told him to shut up, worsening his mood far more—I'm sure.

The truck ride was torture enough between onion breath next to me, my pounding heart, and the nausea induced from being blindfolded and riding in an automobile. It was a fucking mess. I was trying very hard not to vomit, although maybe it would've been a good escape technique if I had...

* * *

**Joe's POV**

The next fucker who told me to shut up or touched Charlotte would get their fucking neck snapped. These dumb fuck's thought it was okay to walk all over us—the minute I get a chance to put that to a fucking end, believe me I will.

The truck slowed to a stop, and after the engine was turned off the place was too quiet. They pushed us onto the ground—they really seem to enjoy doing that, the fuckers. It was so fucking cold out that I was losing feeling in my fingers and toes, but that cold, while annoying, was reassuring. I was glad to know they didn't drive us to the fucking desert.

One of them spoke up,"Diese ihnen?" So they were expecting us.

"Listen Joe," Did she really think it was the best time to be talking right now?

"Abbott, shut up!" I warned.

"I don't care if they hear me. Just listen for a god damn second, alright?"

"I know you're angry, but don't go doing anything fucking stupid. Something that would get you killed." She whispered.

I wanted to roll my eyes,of all people; she was gonna be the one to fucking say this—after all she's been through?

"Worried about me?" I lightened the mood slightly, and could picture her eye roll beneath the pillow case.

"I'll bring you back from the dead and kill you myself if you get yourself killed, Joe. Got it?"

"Don't worry." We stopped talking just as the krauts had, giving them absolutely no time to notice our conversation.

"Gehen wir Schlampe," One said to Abbott. I swear to fucking Christ, as soon as I'm out from under their watch I'm going to make each and every one of them regret any name they called her or fucking thing they did to her. Just you wait.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I tripped over something, well more like up something. Stairs? Where the hell were we? I didn't really have to act scared at all; most of it was coming naturally. My shoulder ache was replaced with complete numbness now—probably not a good sign, but I had bigger things to worry about right now.

They pushed me into what felt like a doorway and I prayed that this wasn't some weird German torture room. It's amazing what things your imagination will come up with when given two simple words: kraut and room.

I always froze when one of them dared to touch me. It was _his_ fault. One of them reached for my shoulder, making my arm feel like it was being burnt one layer of skin at a time. They maneuvered me into a chair, calling me a slut and a whore, the whole time laughing. I tried not to listen, but I think I was slowly beginning to believe them.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I resisted when they tried to push me into a chair. That's when they did something to her to motivate me, I don't know what, but it made her cry out in pain.

I quickly sat down, so they would leave her alone. They bound my hands behind me in the chair. Then, I heard it. The patter of machine gun fire—ours! What the hell? Where were we?

The dumb fuck's proceeded to tie my feet to the chair. They finally pulled that stupid pillow case off my head. I quickly shut my eyes, shielding them from the unfamiliar light.

I kept my eyes firmly shut until curiosity got the better of me, and slowly, I opened them.

Were those potato mashers?

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

Scratch the fact that the fear could be uncorked at any moment. The fear was fucking uncorked and flowing now. Sweet mother of pearl! Those were Potato Mashers, and I'm not talking about the kind that makes the Thanksgiving side dish. I'm talking about the German grenade that turns people into mashed substances.

You don't fuck with potato mashers.

They looked like they were getting ready to use them; they were attaching them to a jump wire.

I gave Joe a panicked look, my eyes big, he returned the look equal terror in his eyes.

"Joe?" I asked, not caring if they heard me anymore.

"I don't know." he replied, answering without even knowing my question.

The officer walked through the door of the structure, merely a the upstairs of a barn. I desperately hoped to see what was outside, but that was impossible—there were no windows.

I gulped when he walked in front of me, that piece of shit.

"Well, well. Looks like you're stuck." He hissed, and I saw Liebgott clench his jaw, obviously having an internal struggle. "We have no use for you."

Bending towards Joe, he lowered his voice, though I could still hear. "You better say goodbye, because you have no way out now." he grinned.

I felt bile rise in my throat when he did that.

He walked over to me, making my heart race—not in a good way. "And you, whore, fulfilled your only purpose." He came closer to me, roughly gripping my chin. "Even if you did survive, you'd be ruined. Everyone is disgusted by such a whore."

He released me, and I tried my hardest not to remember every word, for him not to have an effect on me. But he would, whether I liked it or not, his words pierced my soul and gnawed at my self-esteem.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

It was a zero to nothing chance now of getting out alive, I knew. But I wasn't going to give up, like hell I wasn't, and Abbott wasn't going to either. Our side's machine gun fire was becoming less sporadic, and I could hear rounds firing off more often now. Eventually, German machine gun fire could be heard now too.

The only krauts in the room with us were two lean guards. I don't know what they were preparing to do, but it was almost too good a chance to escape. Too easy, a trap even.

So we would wait, and we wouldn't give up.

* * *

**Translations:**

1. Is this them?

2. Let's go bitch.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi there! I do hope you like this chapter. I always appreciate some constructive criticism:)

**Mashlover23:** Thank you so much for your review! I really hope this chapter lives up to your expectations:)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.


	10. Guess What: We're Fucked

**R&R? :)**

_"A warrior thinks of death when things become unclear. The idea of death is the only thing that tempers our spirit." ~Carlos Castaneda_

**Charlotte's POV**

For once in my life I didn't have the slightest idea of what would happen next, and it scared me in more ways than one. The krauts had accomplished their goal of completely disorienting me—I had no idea where we were.

I could hear the exchange of machine-gun fire between our M1919's and the Kraut's MG42's becoming increasingly tighter. I could feel my heart beating in my ears; I tried to control it, an impossible task seeing as though my adrenaline was soaring and all my senses were on high alert. It was pissing me off that I couldn't see exactly what the heck was going on out there.

Every now and then, Joe and I would glance at each other. I would do it mainly to see if he was actually here with me, to make sure I was on my own and hallucinating. Occasionally, I would throw in a raised eyebrow with my glance, silently asking Joe if we could escape yet. He would shoot back a look of no—not yet.

Would there ever actually be a right time? Probably not. This was real life, I would remind myself. Not some God damn fairy tale where everyone gets out alive.

Sometimes, though, I wondered if a little fairy dust would hurt in a situation such as this.

As I stared at the potato mashers on the ground, the realization of death hit me like a ton of bricks. It wasn't supposed to happen this way—not for me, or Joe, any of the boys. It wasn't supposed to be so bloody and thoughtless.

I clenched my teeth; I hated this whole ridiculous war. Lots of innocents would die without priests or funerals, missing home, begging for their mothers, crying out words of agony and pain into what felt like nothingness at times.

But I guess all of that didn't matter to the ones causing the war. So long as they got the square inch of land or resources or power they wanted. What really angered me the most was, they were willing to sit down on their fancy asses and shout orders like "Go here." Or "Attack there." but they weren't willing to actually be _ there _with the men, God forbid they actually got their hands dirty, or knew what it was like to be wounded, or lose friends all around you and be expected to continue on like everything's just fine and dandy.

Death wasn't as hard on us over here as it was on our family and friends. No wonder my mother was crazy; her son, husband and daughter where all at war at the same time, and I'm sure it was hell, to wait for news. I wondered how she would take this news—if this was my fate; to die, far away from her and my home, alone.

No, not alone, I reminded myself. Joe was still here.

I gave him another glance, and tensed my muscles, ready to run at his word.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

You know what? I think I was actually starting to miss that little hell hole in the basement. It sounds crazy, but at least there we didn't have krauts staring at us for hours on end, and maybe now I would take advantage of that keg in the corner.

God; we _have_ to get out of here. It was time to stop waiting around; we both have lives to live—lives outside of this place. You know maybe I'd make it a resolution if we got the chance to get out of here to not treat her like shit. Hell, maybe I could actually get a chance to tell her she's beautiful. If we actually do get out of here. We owe it to our buddies to get out of here—the ones who have fallen, and the ones who were still out there.

It was time to start trying.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

Of all times—now was the time that Joe decided to be patient. I mean really? Now? The most impatient person I know has finally decided to channel that impatience—in the middle of a war zone—when we're captured? Well, now I was going to be the impatient one.

I shot Joe a pleading look this time—figuring it would get me further than an annoyed one. It was too late though, no effort would do any good, because just as Joe looked back at me, the German Officer entered through the door.

"Meine Herren, auf Ihre Beiträge." he ordered, disgusting, as always.

For some reason the two young guards hesitated—which confused me. Their facial expressions were so- contemplative, almost. But their body language said otherwise as they shifted their weight uncomfortably.

"Jetzt!" he barked.

I observed the guards intently, confused by their actions; I mean wouldn't they _want_ to get the hell out of here? They stood, but both quickly glanced back at us, and I made eye contact with the Sergeant. There was something so calm and reassuring about his glance, I almost felt comforted—but I knew it was a long shot that he was actually sending comfort my way, hell, I was probably imagining it.

"Yes, sir." they bitterly replied, once again glancing our way on their way out.

Now I was completely confused. Why would they even _look_ in our direction? What would make us so interesting to a kraut?

"Lassen Sie uns gehen! Jetzt!" The Officer ushered us over to two new guards, strong looking Corporals.

I didn't dare glance at Joe, the Officer was staring us both down, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I couldn't look at him too long, I decided, or I would crumple into a ball of fear. I wouldn't fucking give him that satisfaction. I jutted out my chin defiantly- making sure he got the message. Though I was trying to be brave, part of me steeled myself for what was to come.**  
**

* * *

**Joe's POV**

There was something off in the way the guards looked towards us—something very un-kraut like. It was weird, like they were worried. I found their looks perplexing, especially how the one looked at Abbott, almost like he wanted to help her. Funny to think that those bastards would actually want to do something nice.

But, If somebody, anybody could get her out of here, I would be eternally grateful, but I knew it was a fucking long shot.

Now, I had no idea what he was going to do, the only thing I knew was that he had set up Potato Masher grenades, and had some trip wire laid out alongside them.

My heart squeezed in my chest, the only thing trip wire is used for is booby trapping.

Fuck.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

These guards looked so different when compared to the last two. Their stature was different, inhuman almost. They were like his minions—killing machines. Completely mindless, he ordered and they did. No second thoughts, no remorse, barely even an expression to show that they'd heard him. It made me sick.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I kept my eyes glued on Abbott the whole time, distracting myself, if only a little. I saw her eyes widen when the krauts shuffled behind our chairs with rope, tied a knot in the chairs, and secured the rope to the wall behind us, and all the while fuck-face barked orders with a disgusting smile.

Oh, what I would give to smack that fucking smug smile off his ugly face.

They came around the front of me, one holding the grenade, the other one prepared to attach it.

No way in hell was that happening.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

"Get the fuck off me!" Joe thundered toward the kraut trying to tie a grenade between his wrists.

I swallowed in fear as Joe thrashed back and forth in a vain attempt to keep them from getting to him. My breath hitched as one kraut reached to his gun and—

"Joe! No! Stop it!" I screamed. God dammit, why did he have to be so damn stubborn? He wouldn't listen to me, and kept thrashing as the kraut prepared to pull the trigger.

"Stop!" I screeched.

"Halt den Mund!" one of the krauts ordered.

Oh god no.

He pulled his luger from the holster, and violently slapped Joe across the face with it. Oh god, the sound that it made when it collided with his face rang throughout the entire room. I could almost feel the sound hit my own cheeks it was so sharp. **  
**

Giving up his fight, Joe ducked his head to the side and murmured a strained, "Fuck."

And the officer stood there, looking on, emotionless. Pure evil.

The guards proceeded to take this time to carefully put the grenade between Joe's wrists. I even watched one of the guards hands shake ever so slightly when he unscrewed the base of the masher and attached the tripwire to the porcelain ball that dangled down at the bottom of the grenade.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

Abbott didn't put up a fight when they put the grenade between her wrists, and I guessed that she had learnt from my mistake. I could still feel a resounding sting on my cheek thanks to the fuckers. **  
**

I watched that son of a bitch's face when they brought the jump wire towards the door—seeing if he showed any remorse, but there was none—not even a god damn trace.

She had her eyes closed, tuning it all out. I clenched my teeth, because I knew now that we had no fucking chance.

No fucking chance at all.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

You'd think that they were done with torture; that they would just leave us alone—did they even feel guilty? They didn't care; they jerked me around and put a gag on me like I was some sort of sack of potatoes, like I wasn't actually human.

Then they did it to Joe, making him chew on a rope. What was the point of all this? Were they trying to prove something? Why didn't they just shoot us in the first place?

Now I couldn't speak, I couldn't tell Joe that I was sorry it was going to end this way, or thank him for being there for me and keeping me warm, or for letting me cry on his shoulder.

The distinct howl of a German Nebleweffer followed by the sound of our mortars jerked me from my thoughts. I felt the ground quake with explosions below us and the shout of, "Aim, Fire!" coming repeatedly from the German side.

I watched as the Corporals looked at each other in panic. One false move and we would all be but names on a headstone.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

Jesus Christ. If our mortars hit this building it was gonna end a whole lot fucking quicker than I had originally thought. I didn't even know who was manning the mortars in Easy company these days, just a group of wide eyed, under trained replacements. There was no way in hell that I was gonna trust their accuracy.

The krauts hastily situated a splitter ring over the top of the pod of death in between my wrists—to maximize shrapnel (as if the grenade itself wasn't enough.) The attached the trip wire to the rattling door knobs, and got the hell out of there—I don't blame them, I would do the same thing, were I them.

I snorted, were I them, what a thought to have at a time like this.

Abbott slowly turned her head and stared at me—a pitiful sight we were I'm sure. Her usually blonde hair was now dirty, matted, and stuck to her face; her eye swollen from that sick bastard hitting her, and the rosiness to her cheeks that turned scarlet when she was mad or embarrassed was now pale and blotchy.

But even now, she was still as beautiful as ever, dammit.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I know it sounds horribly cliché, but I turned to Joe, and though we couldn't talk because of these stupid things gagging us, we said what we needed to say. I gave Joe a look to reassure him that I was okay, that we'd be okay, and he looked back, telling me that he was sorry—though he had nothing to be sorry for.

We both sat silently, listening to the battle happening around us, waiting for the inevitable. The only thing I found comfort in was that Joe was there with me, and I just wanted him to hold me.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, he would never be able to do that again.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

The reason the krauts went to all this fucking trouble suddenly dawned on me. I hadn't made the connection until then that if anyone opened the door from the outside; it would create enough tension on the wire to blow the whole building up, including the person on the outside, and if somebody from Easy were to open it, then, well...

I had to find a way to let Abbott know what I had realized, unless she already had figured it out.

"Mmmm! Mmm!" I tried to scream, though this piece of shit gag made it muffled as hell. I still managed to catch her attention, and looked towards the door, carefully pointing to it with my head.

I swear to you, her face turned from panicked, to confused, to dread all in about five seconds. I could tell that she was silently hoping to God that the mashers were duds, or that nobody would open the door.

Ever since I got to Europe I haven't really been an incredibly religious guy, but right now I was prepared to try just about anything—because we were out of options.

I closed my eyes, and silently started to pray.

* * *

**Charlotte's POV**

I was going over all the details in my head—_You've got a will, You had communion in Bastogne, You signed up for life insurance right before D-day, If something happens and you're not blown to pieces… You're not wearing clean or matching underwear—how shameful._

I internally grimaced, that last one was voiced in my mind by the disapproving voice of my mother. I felt tears sting the back of my eyes at the thought of never seeing her again or the rest of my family.

My mind moved to George Luz—my partner in crime. I remembered all the times we pranked people around camp. We'd pulled off a few that were bound to become classics—like that one time when we spent the night rigging Captain Sobel's door in Aldbourne to dump a gallon of Spaghetti sauce on him when he stumbled to do his annoyingly precise morning routine. They never did find out who it was, and that made the victory all the sweeter.

And then there was Darrell Powers—better known as Shifty; sweet, southern Shifty who could shoot a running rabbit with a three dollar pistol. Shifty, who is undeniably one of the best friends I will ever have. Shifty and I have a common bond—we're both snipers. We've spent countless nights training, learning how to be better shots.

Oh Shifty.

I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing any of the boys again, they had become my family, my brothers in arms, my—

I was suddenly jolted out of my train of thought by the shaking of my doorknob.

My heart jumped up to my throat, and I didn't dare breathe.

Someone was opening the door.

* * *

**Translations:**

1. Gentlemen, to your posts.

2. Now

3. Let's go! Now!

4. Shut up!

* * *

**A/N**: Hi there! I'm really sorry for the longer wait this week:( But I left you with a bit of a cliff hanger- I'll be sure to update on time:) I do hope you like this chapter! I always appreciate some constructive criticism.

**FallynAshe**: I'm really, really glad you liked them! I hope you enjoy this chapter:)

**Mashlover23**: Thank you! Hopefully you like this chapter as well:)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or wish to own Band of Brothers. That belongs to HBO, Stephen Ambrose, and every man of Easy Company. I am basing this story purely on the Joseph Liebgott portrayed by Ross McCall in the 10 part miniseries, I mean no offense to any of the brave men (and women!) who served in WWll, this story is purely fiction.


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